An Afternoon with the Kid
by Sir Miles
Summary: When bad weather keeps the Demolition Duo indoors, Daxter finds himself an unlikely babysitter—and the protector of something important. (Jak II)


It was a miracle. For once, Jak wasn't being sent out on another mission—which meant Daxter got a chance to relax, too. For the duo of sometimes Resistance fighters it was an unexpected blessing. Of course, Daxter admitted to himself, it wasn't quite perfect. The _reason_ for the respite was a storm so fierce it was already trying to flood the Underground hideout with water. Add to that the fact that half a dozen Underground members were holed up in the same basement, and things were getting a little crowded. Oh, and he couldn't forget that Torn was sitting nearby, his feet propped up on the table, doing something that involved far too many knives for Daxter's comfort. Close quarters made for short tempers, and Torn's was already cropped closer than Sig's hair. It was best to stay low and quiet, well away from Torn's narrow glare.

In a surprisingly short time Daxter became bored. Jak had scratched him behind the ears for awhile, but then his friend had succumbed to exhaustion and fallen asleep on one of the top bunks. Daxter was reluctant to disturb him; only the ottsel had a clear idea of what Jak went through every day. Instead he curled up at Jak's side, resting his chin on his arms so he could observe the other occupants of the room. In the middle of debating whether or not he should pull a prank on Torn, he fell asleep.

He awoke to the steady _shush_ of rain accompanied by snoring. There was a relaxed, almost peaceful air about the room. Stretching languidly, Daxter opened one eye and discovered the reason: everyone was asleep, including Torn, still perched at his table. Immediately Daxter felt the urge to practice his practical jokester skills. He sat up, opening his other eye—

—and found himself staring into a pair of big, blue eyes. He jerked, startled, and nearly fell backwards off the bed. A pair of small hands reached out to grab him—surprisingly gently—and pull him back to safety, setting him back on the bed.

Daxter stared at the kid. What was he doing here? Another perusal of the room showed no sign of ancient Kor. Well, maybe he'd had to run to buy some anti-itch cream, or something. The kid had been dropped off at the Underground hideout before, but there was usually someone assigned to watch him. And Jak and Daxter never hung around for long, anyway. At this moment, there were only two people awake in the room.

"Jak. Jak!" The ottsel crawled over to his friend to whisper urgently in his ear. "Wake up; I need you!" Frustratingly, Jak didn't even stir. _Oh, no._ Daxter did _not _want to be left alone with some grubby kid! "C'mon, Jak! Time to wake up!" He crawled back to Jak's side and prepared to leap onto his chest.

But the kid scooted closer, his eyes wide. He was shaking his head rapidly, and one finger was to his mouth in a gesture that clearly meant, _Shh! _When surprise made Daxter fall silent, the kid smiled faintly. Daxter watched as the youngster looked down at the sleeping Jak. With childlike innocence, the kid tugged on the blanket that lay half over Jak, pulling it over him and patting its edge critically.

_He's tucking Jak in!_ Daxter realized incredulously. Then a sobering thought struck him: How long had it been since Jak had been tucked in? And what kind of world was it when a shrimp of a kid was the one doing it?

Lost in contemplation, Daxter missed the kid's beckoning gesture. The next thing he knew, he was once again lifted into the air. But this time the kid set the ottsel on his small lap. His legs were stretched along the length of the bed so he was sitting next to Jak. _What was he doing on Jak's bed in the first place?_ Daxter wondered. Had someone put him there—or had he climbed up on his own? It was true they'd seen the kid several times and even escorted him to Kor once. Did the kid feel _safe_ with Jak?

One thing was certain: he liked Daxter. He began to rub the ottsel's back gently. _Ah. I could get used to this._ Daxter stretched out comfortably, content to lay there and be pampered for awhile. The peaceful quiet returned, and Daxter found himself dozing once more.

A loud crack of thunder woke Daxter with a start. At almost the same moment, he felt the kid's legs and hands jerk. Frowning, the ottsel turned to look at the kid. As he suspected, the child was tense and shivering, his gaze shifting around the room as if looking for an enemy. Daxter felt a rush of sympathy for him. After all, the ottsel was no stranger to terrifying situations. In his case, though, he had Jak there to keep him company. Did this kid really have anyone?

He stepped over to put a comforting hand on the kid's shoulder. "Hey, there, champ, it's okay." The boy was still distracted, his eyes wide; but he made no sound. Not for the first time, Daxter wondered about that. This kid was as quiet as Jak had been—no, quieter. What was it with these mutes, anyway? Daxter couldn't have been quiet at that age if his life had depended on it. Probably still couldn't, truth be told. But he knew something about silence from his time with Jak. Perhaps this kid was similar to his friend. It was worth a try. And since he couldn't be more than four, the ottsel went with visual distraction.

"Hey," he murmured, tapping the kid on the shoulder. Then he scampered across the child's back to tap his other shoulder. Instinctively—and with good reflexes, Daxter noted—the boy turned to look at him. "Check this out!" And the ottsel launched into one of his "signature" moves: a tail shake followed by a back spin. He grinned quirkily at the boy.

As he'd hoped, the kid's face broke into a tentative grin. Encouraged, Daxter continued showing off his moves. Leaping, spinning, and even flipping his way across the bed, the ottsel managed to make the boy's grin widen significantly. To conclude his performance, Daxter took a flying leap from the edge of the bed and landed on the kid's lap with a bow. "Thank you, thank you!" The kid's little hands clapped quietly, the first expressive noise Daxter had heard him make.

Sobering a little, Daxter settled back onto the kid's lap, closing his eyes. "That's better," he murmured, mostly to himself. "Can't have you being scared, after all." What _was _it about this child that reminded him so much of Jak? Both his friend and this boy affected him in a way that few else did, making him try his hardest to protect them in his own way.

He opened one eye to glance upward. The kid, catching his gaze, smiled down at him and began to rub his back once more.

Maybe that was it. That smile.

Jak had the same kind of smile. And it said more than any words. Thanks to the Baron—thanks to Daxter—Jak had almost lost his smile. Even now, it was slow in coming. Daxter would do anything to make sure it didn't disappear completely. He couldn't bear that. Not for his friend.

And not for this kid, either.

He closed his eyes once more, resting on the child's lap, content to stay there for as long as the kid might need him.


End file.
